The Fall
by MockingjayHallows
Summary: John is finding it very difficult to deal with Sherlock's 'death'. Endless days mourning him are lived in the hope that he might come back. After waiting, John gives up hope, leaving England to return to his old job in the army. Could this be the biggest mistake of his life?
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! This is my second fanfic, although this one is very different from my first. John is finding it difficult to deal with Sherlock's 'death'. Please rate & review! :)**

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_John watched as Sherlock hung up the phone and threw it to the ground. John could only hear a single tone on his end. Sherlock spread his arms out to his sides, as if he was about to take flight. John watched in horror as Sherlock fell forwards off the roof of the hospital. Plummeting down, he looked as if he could soar up at any moment. John's view of Sherlock was blocked by a building, and John made his way across the road, towards the hospital. At that moment, he was hit by a bicycle, knocking him to the ground. He got back up and ran towards where Sherlock had fallen. As he turned a corner, he could see his best friend lying on the ground, face down. He tried not to cry as he bent down towards him. People were trying to keep him away, not understanding that he was his friend._

_-X-_

John was picked up from the funeral by his sister, Harry, who was staying in London for a while. He got in the car, put on his seatbelt, and Harry began to drive. John stared out of the window aimlessly. Watching the world go by. What was the point? There was nothing left for him in the world. No job. No friend. He would be staying at 221b Baker Street. But he wondered whether that was a good idea at all.

'Do you want to talk about it?' asked Harry.

John continued staring out of the window.

'John?'

'This is so pointless,' said John after a while.

'What is?' urged Harry.

'Everything. What is the point in living? I used to think that I had something to live for. Something worthwhile. But now even that's gone.'

'Don't say that,' said Harry, trying to be sympathetic.

John decided to stay silent for the rest of the car journey.

-X-

John walked up to the door. '221B' the little numbers and letter on the door said. He took out his key and, shakily, put it into the lock. He turned it, and opened the door. It was late, and he tried to be as silent as possible, as Mrs Hudson would probably be asleep in her flat. He walked up the seventeen steps to the flat, missing out the fifth one, which creaked. He unlocked the door to the flat and walked in slowly.

Looking around, he realised how much he missed Sherlock already. Seeing the letters held down with a dagger, Sherlock's violin, and the old skull on the mantelpiece only made him more emotional. A silent tear slid down his cheek.

He sat down on the couch and closed his eyes, trying not to think about it. It was no use. He started sobbing uncontrollably. He lay down on the couch clutching a cushion. Somewhere in the midst of all the tears, he finally fell asleep.

-X-

His dreams were no escape from the hell that was reality. He kept reliving the moment Sherlock admitted himself to be a fake and jumped off the building.

He woke up in a cold sweat. He couldn't believe it. Sherlock wasn't dead. And he most definitely wasn't a fake. Why was Sherlock playing this game? Sherlock dealt with other people's deaths. What was going to happen now that he wasn't here. John could do with talking to Sherlock. To ask him if it was possible it was fake. The whole suicide. Fake.

He could only hope.

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**Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed that chapter. I hope to put the next one up in the next few days. Please rate & review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for reading! Here's chapter 2. Please review :)**

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Molly unlocked the door to her flat quickly and opened the door. They both went in, and Sherlock uncovered his face.

'No one saw me?' he asked, unsurely.

'Don't think so,' replied Molly.

Sherlock took off his long coat.

'Um, you'll be staying in the spare room, just down there to your right,' said Molly.

'Oh, thanks,' Sherlock made his way towards the spare room.

Molly looked around nervously. The flat was still a mess. She had done her best to clean it up before she left this morning, when Sherlock told her he would need to stay there for a while. Molly was helping him fake his own death. With her job at risk, she was determined not to mess it up.

It was very late by now, and Molly and Sherlock were both hungry. Molly went into the kitchen and opened the fridge to see what was there. A carrot, some milk and some cheese.

'Shall we get a take away?' Molly called.

'As long as I don't have to go and get it,' joked Sherlock as he walked into the kitchen.

'Wow,' thought Molly, 'I didn't know he was capable of joking.'

'Of course not,' laughed Molly, 'Chinese?'

'Sounds good.'

'What would you like?' asked Molly.

'Something I like,' said Sherlock, dully.

Molly blushed ferociously, and then fumbled her way out of the flat to get their dinner.

-X-

'I'm home,' Molly called out as she closed the door to her flat behind her.

Sherlock was sitting on the couch in his bath robe. Molly didn't know where to look.

'Oooh, smells nice,' said Sherlock, not bothered about him being half-naked.

Molly put their food down on the table and sat down. Sherlock joined her.

'I got you a chicken chow mein, said Molly, 'Thought you might like it.'

'Meh. Better than nothing,' said Sherlock, delighted.

'Oh, that's good. I'm just glad you don't hate it,' said Molly.

'Would you like some wine?' asked Sherlock, holding a bottle from Molly's cupboard.

'Yes, please,' replied Molly, holding out her glass, 'I think I need one after today.'

'It's very hard being dead, you know,' said Sherlock, 'I can't leave this flat for at least the next few weeks, and I'm already going mad.'

'I'll get you some board games. Keep you entertained,' said Molly.

'I hate board games. Especially Cluedo. Never buy me Cluedo,' said Sherlock, 'The rules are wrong.'

'I'm the same with operation. It's just so medically inaccurate,' said Molly.

'Oh, get over it, Molly. It's just a game,' replied Sherlock.

Molly opened her mouth to protest but decided against it.

They ate the rest of their dinner in silence.

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**Hope you guys liked that. Still working on chapter 3, and I should have it up in the next few days! Please review :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, guys! Sorry this took so long, I've been really busy this week. Enjoy!**

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John spent the rest of the night and morning staring out of the window. The lights were beautiful. The street below was quiet, apart from the occasional taxi or passer-by. He was too tired to sleep. He was too tired to cry. He was too tired to do anything except stare out of the window and hope this was all a very bad dream.

-X-

At about 9 o' clock the next morning, John was snapped back to reality by a knock on the door. He kept on staring out of the window, without any intention on opening the door.

'It's me!' called Mrs Hudson from the other side of the door, 'Are you in?'

John paused for a moment, and then, still looking out the window, called, 'Come in.'

Mrs Hudson pushed open the door and saw John staring out the window.

'Oh, John,' said Mrs Hudson, 'How long have you been like this for?'

'Not long,' lied John.

Mrs Hudson made her way into the kitchen. There was the sound of the kettle boiling and crockery rattling together.

'Would you like some breakfast?' called Mrs Hudson.

'No, thanks,' replied John.

'How about a cuppa?' asked Mrs Hudson.

'He's dead.'

Mrs Hudson stopped what she was doing and took a deep breath. She made her way into the living room and sat down beside John.

'I know how you feel,' said Mrs Hudson.

_No, you don't, _thought John. He closed his eyes in an attempt to calm down.

'So, what have you got planned for today, then?' asked Mrs Hudson, making her way back into the kitchen.

'Nothing,' replied John.

'Oh, come on. You have to keep yourself busy. Take your mind off things,' said Mrs Hudson.

'I'd rather not,' said John.

'Tell you what. Why don't we go for lunch, hmm? Just the two of us,' suggested Mrs Hudson.

'Okay,' said John in an attempt to keep her happy.

'Great!' cried Mrs Hudson.

-X-

The next few weeks were spent mourning, staring out of the window, and having lunch with Mrs Hudson. John could feel himself slipping away. Despite everything, he was beginning to give up hope. Even Sherlock would have turned up by now.

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**Hope you liked that! Sorry it was so short. I'll hopefully have the next chapter up soon. Please review and let me know what you think.**


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